Winchesters in Burgess
by thescienceofabduction
Summary: Sam and Dean make their way to the town of Burgess after hearing about several mysterious deaths. However, upon arriving they are surprised to encounter something they've never seen before, and it doesn't go smoothly.
1. Chapter 1

Dean had decided that never. ever. under any circumstance would he EVER return to motherfucking Burgess, New York.

He shook the snow out of his hair with an irritated flick as he and Sam stepped into the diner. Sam loved to snow, and even he was itching to be done with this case and get back to warmer climates. They trudged to the bar and flopped down onto two empty stools. Dean silently thanked god-or-whatever that the seats had cushions. Cold metal would have been profoundly unpleasant. At least the people who lived here had adapted to living in "Winter's Favorite Town". The nickname was proclaimed in every shop window and every inn, but it seemed as though winter itself had turned savage on the little community.

That's what had brought the brothers to the town in the first place three days ago. Three people had died in the last month from freezing to death, but it was the way they had been frozen that caught the Winchester's eyes. Each was solidified in a casual position, walking, or driving, or shoveling snow, like it had happened instantly. Sam had told Dean upon seeing the photos online that it would take the equivalent of being dunked into liquid nitrogen to do something like that to a human being. What really drove the case up their ally, though, had been the fact that it had happened in plain daylight, with dozens of witnesses that claimed the victims had just dropped dead in the middle of the street. No warning. No reasonable explanation.

Sam and Dean had pulled into the town late at night and pulled up to the first motel they could see. The Impala had been struggling through eight inches of snow for the last hour and the white stuff was still falling. The woman that handed them the room key laughed when the mentioned the near-blizzard outside.

"Oh you boys haven't even seen a thing yet! It's only November. You just wait until the season really rolls around. This is a skiff!" She grinned at them and pointed to the figurine on her desk. It was an old man dressed in blue and silver, with a little sign that read, "Winter 3 Burgess."

As soon as they'd settled into the room, Sam whipped out his laptop. Normally this was when Dean would head off to the nearest bar to scope out the town while Sam did his research thing, but the ever growing layer of snow on the ground made him think twice. He wasn't bored for long though because within minutes Sam leaned back in his chair and muttered, "well shit."

Suddenly alert, Dean asked, "What is it? Oh god please don't say demon. Or angel, actually don't say anything let me see."

Sam turned the screen towards Dean. On it was a chart of some kind.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean huffed after a moment.

Sam turned the computer again so that he could continue tapping away at the grungy keys.

"It's a temperature chart," he explained. "It shows the average temperatures of the town for the last 400 years. The summers aren't anything special, but the winters here. Dean the winters are really, _really_ cold."

"That's it?" Dean asked. "Dude I could have told you that when _people started getting flash frozen._"

Sam shook his head. "No see it's more than that. That's just been recently, but this town, this specific location, has had abnormal winter weather for the last three hundred years. The towns around it are perfectly normal. There's nothing about this town that should make it this cold. Some 20 degrees colder than it meteorologically should be!"

"So what, some kind of pissed off god?"

"I don't think so," Sam said quietly. "Gods always take some sort of regular sacrifice, but there's no evidence of that."

Dean rolled his eyes, "except the three late popsicle people."

"No, those don't fit any pattern. That kind of thing has never happened here before. In fact, get this: even for it's weather, Burgess has one of the lowest death and disappearance rates in the country."

Frustration was already making Dean itch to do something. They rarely ran into blocks this early in cases. "You know what, man, we can do this tomorrow. It's late and I need my four hours. We'll check out the corpses in the morning."

Sam nodded and shut the laptop with a click.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was curled into a ball at the base of a tree near his pond. He occasionally shuddered or gasped and as fresh wave of frost and cold air wracked his bare shoulders. He wasn't sure at what point in his the past week his hoodie had gone missing. He had lost track of time between periods of stillness, like the one he was currently in, and periods of complete loss of control. Last night it had happened again. The grief had welled up and he'd suddenly had another violent fit. He was thrashed around by winds even he never would have been able to conjure before, and blasts of ice and snow that hurled him into trees and rocks. He felt like his power was shredding him from the inside out. He had no control over anything. All he could do was hide. The tree he huddled under had long since died, frozen through and beginning to shatter in places, but at least he couldn't hurt anyone here.

###

Sam made his way through what was now two feet of snow. Even the town's residents were getting nervous. This would have been a big storm even in January, but as early as November it was pretty uncommon. He hoped Dean wasn't struggling too much on his end of town. Sam had convinced Dean to scan the town for EMF, especially where the victims had been iced. As for himself, he made his way towards the local library, where official town document were stored. He quietly muttered a spell under his breath that activated a small hex bag in his pocket. It would supposedly mute any magic that could potentially freeze him, just in case.

###

Jack felt a tug in his power. Initially he curled in onto himself even more tightly, worried his power was about to surge again, but then he realized it felt different. Almost like his magic was being subdued. Cautiously, he raised his head. He felt better already, less like he was struggling to hold himself together at the seams. The excessive power was still there. That hadn't gone back to normal since it suddenly increased tenfold about a month ago, but he felt like he could actually hold it in a little better, if still only just. He felt the tug again and realized it was external. Someone or something was messing with his magic.

Jack pulled his staff out of the bushed were it had been flung last night. He had to find whoever was altering his powers, either to get help from them (maybe they will know what to do) or get rid of them if they were the cause of his sudden increase in ability, which he hadn't been prepared to hold. People had gotten hurt. It was with hesitant optimism that he carefully took off towards the town, following the tugging sensation in his gut.

###

Sam groaned and scrubbed his hands through his now disheveled hair. Even with four sets of town records it was impossible to pinpoint exactly when the winters of Burgess had gone awol. The narrowest time frame he could come up with was about 10 years. He had been hoping to find a violent death from around that time. He'd remembered the temperature drop sometimes caused by pissed off ghosts and thought maybe one had learned how to focus that power, but he was running into a problem. The weather seemed to have started getting odd in the early 1700's, but violent and traumatic deaths from that era were so frequent, he couldn't sift through all the possible sources of the maybe-ghost.

"Mauled by bear," he muttered as he read yet another list of names of people who died in Burgess 300 years ago, "hunting accident, drowned while skating, house fire, child birth, fever, hacked to bits with hatched, flogged to death..."

There was something behind him.

Sam whipped around in his seat and reached for his gun only to be faced with nothing but air. He could have sworn he'd heard a breath.

###

Jack peered at the man and held his breath. Had he heard him breathing? He nearly asked out loud, even though it was impossible, until he saw the man's hand resting on a gun at his hip. Not friendly then. Jack had been shot before a few times, mostly accidentally. It didn't kill him, but it hurt to be shredded like that and then pulled back together. He noticed a small leather bag tied next to the gun. That was it. That's what was dampening with his power.

There was a frightening moment of stillness as neither figure moved, Sam's eyes locked onto space, Jack's on the bag. Just as Sam moved to shrug and sit back down, Jack's hand flicked out, snatched the bag, and fled. He wasn't sure why. He hadn't thought about it, but he knew it was important, and he wasn't ready to risk talking to anyone would could potentially alter his power (not to mention shoot him).

###

Sam decided he'd been mistaken, but the moment he began to turn to sit back down something yanked the cold-protection hex bag off his belt and it disappeared in a cold rush of air. It left patches of beautifully curling, fernlike frost etched across the hem of his shirt and jacket.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dean?" Sam's voice crackled through the phone as their service deteriorated with the weather. Dean's heart rate leaped as he heard the faint panic in his brother's voice.

"Sammy? Sam! What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I'm ok, no one's hurt but it was here." Sam took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

"Well what was it? What happened?" Dean was almost shouting into the phone, gaining him several odd glances from the other people at the bar.

"I dunno Dean, I couldn't see the damn thing. It was behind me and when I turned I just saw air but it took my hex bag!" Dean could barell hear his brother's rushed whisper over the din of the bar.

"Ok meet me back at the motel?" Dean suggested.

"Sure."

###

For the first time in weeks, Jack was asleep. He'd collapsed in a tree in Burgess's little park, and the snow was beginning to let up. He hadn't found his hoodie (it was probably shredded anyway) and was curled loosely under an ancient wool blanket in the crook of the large maple. A small smile rested on his pale lips, a result of the immense relief he felt, now in control of his magic again. He clutched the little bag tightly in his sleep, afraid to loose it and the control it gave him.

###

Sam looked up from his computer when the door to the motel room flew open to revile an incredibly disgruntled Dean.

"I. Hate snow. So. Goddamn. Much." he growled, throwing off his soaked boots and jacket.

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the childish behavior.

"Come on Dean. It's just water."

"Yeah. Frozen, gross, cold, wet, cold, awful, cold hell-sent water. And it's cold."

Sam shrugged and pointed at a short entry in their father's journal. Dean leaned on the desk and read it quickly. It detailed a brief encounter John had had with what he assumed to be some sort of spirit, which was invisible, but left him with a chill and a snowball in his face. He said it was probably a poltergeist of some sort but didn't pursue it further.

Dean shook his head, "This isn't worth much. That could be any damn ghost in the country."

"Yeah well it's all I've got ok?" Sam's voice rose to a shout by the end of the sentence.

Dean broke the moment of silence that followed, nodding, "sorry man I'm just frustrated with this one. There's almost nothing to go on. I mean the victims are clean, totally normal besides being frozen, all at about the same time and same place too. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Yeah," Sam yawned as he stretched back in the chair, "I just want to find what ever it is before it happens again. Right now our best bet is spirit or poltergeist; some kind of ghost that's channeling that cold thing they do."

"Ok," Dean agreed, "but there's no EMF anywhere in town."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Lets go get a drink or a burger or something."

So they sat in the diner and half-heartedly chewed on quickly chilling french fries, trying to keep the snow melting off their clothes from falling in their food.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack woke just before dawn to a sickening smell, like burnt skin and steam. His eyes shot open and he jerked upward into a sitting position. Then he registered the pain. He looked down at his hands and dropped the hex bag, horrified. His hands were burnt where they had been touching the bag, leaving long angry blotches and streaks on his fingers, palms and forearms. They stung, raw and red in the cold air. Jack tried to summon enough ice to coat the burns, just to sooth them a little, but it melted on contact. Tears welled up in his eyes, freezing to his cheeks and eyelashes. He had to find the man in the library, who he's stolen the bag from in the first place. He had to convince him to fix this, or at least not try to kill him.

But as Jack took off slowly for the town in search of the man, he could barely stay above the heads of the people below. He couldn't touch them, couldn't let one of them walk through him. Not after what happened last time.

###

A metallic clank woke Sam. He watched Dean fiddle with the radiator in the corner through puffs of his breath in the cold room.

"This stupid sonofabitch radiator isn't working."

"I noticed."

"And I can't figure out how to fix it."

"Well that's a first. Hey did you t-" Sam's sentence came to a grinding halt when he noticed the window.

"Dean look," he pointed at the pane of glass, which was coated with swirling scrolls of frost, radiating outward from a handprint in the center. The air outside the window quivered, like a mirage over hot asphalt.

Then someone materialized out of thin air.

Dean barley had time to register the figure before he leapt for his gun and the salt. The thing's eyes widened at the sudden flurry of offensive action and jumped backwards, tripping over the curb.

Sam watched as it fell _through_ a homeless man in the parking lot and tumbled backward. It shot one indescribable look at the homeless man, who was now frozen solid on the ground, so brittle from the cold that he'd shattered in places. He helped Dean grab their stuff and race to the Impala to chase the spirit down.

###

Jack tried to flee. He'd hoped the man would at least listen before throwing a knife at him and chasing him in that car. How could they even see him? It's like they knew what he'd done.

T_hey're hunting me, _he thought. And rightfully so. He was a freak anyway. A monster. He hadn't meant to kill those people. He'd never hurt anyone before by getting walked through. Sure it hurt him, but they never seemed to notice. It started when his own magic began attacking him.

Jack tried desperately to gain altitude, but he was too tired, his energy leached and out of his control. So he half flew, half ran down the center of the road. He just had to get to the woods.

###

Dean and Sam screamed at each other as the Impala roared after the thing, causing angry shouts of "slow down!" and "be careful" from the few people on the roads in the thin, early morning light.

"What the hell is that?"

"I don't know! It keeps flickering. I can't get a good look at it!"

"Can you not wreck the car please?!"

"I'm just trying to keep up with it! The son of a bitch is fast as hell."

"Why is it running, why not just disappear or fly or whatever these bastards normally do?"

"I don't think it can. "

"Go faster!"

###

"Go faster!" Jack screamed at the wind as he neared a private road that wound through the trees. He doubted his pursuers could take it at high speeds. The gusts ignored him though, whipping around like angry wolves, becoming bitingly cold and tearing at his bare torso. He heard a gun being loaded as he turned onto the road, dismayed by the tenacity of the hunters.

Suddenly a gust hit him from the side. Taken unawares he was hurled into a tree trunk and fell to the ground. He shook, trying to stand but several bullets tore through his chest, leaving a hollow sting where his body reformed itself. The car pulled to a stop and the men leapt out, cornering him against the old oak.

"Please!" he begged through gritted teeth, ice collecting around his eye where tears froze before they could fall, "please don't, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!"

The shorter of the two men, who Jack now assumed were brothers given their resemblance, pulled a second gun from his belt. It was loaded with something different, he could smell it, and it scared him. He didn't know how but he knew whatever was in that gun would hurt a hell of a lot more than lead.

"Shut up," the man growled and pulled the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had never been more disgusted with something than the monster in their trunk. It had killed four people, and was after his brother, and it had the _audacity_ to beg. He took a sharp corner and smiled when he heard the thump of the thing in the trunk. _I hope it bruises, _he thought.

"Where should we take it?" Sam asked, filling the tense, hollow silence in the vehicle.

"We passed what looked like an abandoned warehouse on the way into town. We can bring him there. Figure out if he knows anything."

"You want to interrogate it?"

"Sammy we don't have anyone on our side. We need all the information we can get, and if he doesn't have anything to share, we'll kill him."

"How? The holy water and silver didn't do a thing. We still don't know what he is. Hell, Dean we blasted him full of your superheated salt and iron cocktail filled shells and all he did was pass out.

"We'll figure it out. One way or another, this bastard's going to burn." Dean said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

For a minute, no one spoke, then, "Dean what's up with you and this case?"

"What?"

"I dunno man you just seem to be taking this a lot more personally than usual."

Dean wasn't sure what it was about this one. He couldn't explain why, but some kind of deep seated emotion was driving the anger. It felt like betrayal, but that made absolutely no sense, seeing as he had never met their captive before. He shrugged off Sam's question with a quiet "whatever."

###

Jack shuddered in the back of the car. His hands were tied, making it impossible to brace himself when sharp curves threw him around. He knew he deserved it, after accidentally killing those people, he deserved anything, but he wanted to know who these people were, how they seemed to know what he'd done, and how to hurt him. Mostly though he wanted to know how the adults could see him. Grownups could never see him, telling the few children that could that he was nonsense, an imaginary friend. At least during Christmas and Easter they encouraged their kids' belief.

Jack tried to shift position only to accidentally rub the raw spots on his shoulder and chest, where the salt and iron has lodged in his skin. He bit his lip trying not to cry out. Where were the rest of the Guardians. He'd been hiding for almost a month now, letting Winter roam without it's sheppard. Bunny should have shown up by now, berating his laziness, or Sandman, silently asking what had happened, what was wrong. But no one had come looking. Initially he'd been grateful. He just wanted to hide, but now he really did need help. He needed someone to explain what the hell was happening to him.

Angrily he kicked at the roof of the truck, satisfied with the cracking sound that came from above. _Good, _he thought, _I hope I broke something. _He wished he at least had his staff. It was comforting, familiar, and it was still in the woods where he'd been shot, bound, and stuffed into the boot of a car.

###

"Sounds like someone's awake," Sam commented as a second _thunk_ came from the back.

"I swear if it breaks something back there, I'll kill it."

"You're going to kill it anyway."

"Shut up, Sam."

Frost was creeping across the back seat, curling across the windows and making air fridged enough that the brothers could see puffs of their breath with each exhale. _It's good we're nearly there, _Dean thought, _this things gonna freeze us out _

He pulled into the gravel parking lot and backed up to a big, rusted door that hung ajar. The warehouse was small but clearly abandoned, a good place to deal with things without getting bothered by civilians.

###

Jack froze as the car rolled to a stop. He hear muffled voices coming around to the back of the car and prepared to jump when the trunk clicked open. A sliver of light only just cut across is vision when a gun was shoved through the crack firing another round of the hot, burning particles.

###

Sam stood back to check his knots, and Dean watch with crossed arms, his brows furrowed. It was their first chance to get a decent look at what they'd caught.

"Shit," Sam murmured, "he's just a kid."

And he was. What appeared to be a young man, maybe 17 or 18, sat before then, slumping forward in his seat. His ribs and vertebra were easily visible, casting dark shadows on his pale, bruised skin. There were raw red burns on his chest and shoulder where Dean had shot the iron shavings and salt, hot from the flash of gunpowder. The rest of his torso was peppered with narrow slices and scars. Silvery white hair hung over his face, obscuring his eyes.

The frost that grew across the floor around the chair suddenly charged outward, and the temperature in the warehouse plummeted at least 10 degrees.

The thing twitched and raised his head, glacial blue eyes peering at the brothers. Dean briefly felt as if he recognized them.

"Who-" the kid started in a hoarse voice.

"No," Dean cut in, "we're going to be asking the questions."

"First off, what the hell are you?" demanded Sam.

"I'm Jack."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm Jack."

"Not who," Sam huffed, "what."

"I'm... I... I don't know. I'm a Guardian, the Guardian of fun, or I was, I'm not sure anymore, I'm Winter's shepherd, Jack Frost."

"...what?" the brothers chorused.

"Jack Frost?" Jack tried again and sighed at the looks of incomprehension. "I died," he said flatly.

"So you're a ghost?"

"I drowned in a pond over 300 years ago. I was skating with my sister, and the ice began cracking and I saved her but I fell through. I died. The Moon rose me and I became Jack Frost. I control winter weather and I recently became a Guardian. We protect children and what they hold dear. Then something happened three and a half weeks ago. I couldn't control my powers. They controlled me. People walk through me all the time; most can't see me or hear me because they don't believe in me. But I was summoning a storm in town one day and they walked through and just froze. They froze solid! I panicked and tried to get away, but the wind would let me fly and... and I couldn't... I just hid."

The words rushed out, tumbling over his numb lips. It felt so good to say it out loud, to have a story. It made him feel real.

Dean watched the spirit choke out the explanation. He could see tears freezing into his lashes. A broken sob escaped the kid, who was slumped over again, avoiding eye contact, or possibly giving up entirely.

A nagging feeling rose in his stomach, a sense of familiarity that had been growing since he first saw ice bloom across their motel room window. It was like a memory that was constantly just beyond his reach.

Then it hit him. Dean staggered backwards a step, his sharp intake of breath dangerously close to a gasp.

"Jack," he whispered.

Jack's head snapped up, making real eye contact with Dean for the first time, his head cocked slightly. His eyes widened and he straightened up.

"Dean?" he asked.

"What?" said Sam, officially confused.

Jack tried to stand, to pull his hands free from the industrial webbing Sam and used to tie them. "Dean what happened to you?" Jack recognized the man's bright green eyes surrounded by freckles from the boy he'd known years ago. Dean had believed in him, could see him. Jack remembered spending weeks at a time in Kansas that winter, playing with the boy, teaching him how to make the best snowballs.

And then he'd left. When Jack came back the next winter, the father, Dean and the baby were gone. Something about a house fire.

Dean's face crumpled. "Shit happened. Life fucking happened. I think I've been screwed over by every damn person I know, and now you."

"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Sam demanded.

"Jack and I used to know each other."

"So I gathered." Sam rolled his eyes.

"When I was a kid, before we lost Mom, Jack used to stop by in the winter time. We were friends. Then I forgot, like a repressed memory or something. Too bad I have to kill him now that I remember." He turned to the white-haired teen. "Where are your buddies Jack? Are the Easter bunny and Santa going to show up and save your ass or are they killing people now too? That's an interesting question isn't it Jack. How does one kill a Guardian?"

Jack and Sam were too dumbstruck by the speech to say anything, then, so quietly it was barely discernable, Jack whispered, "Dean please. I'm sorry."

Sam had had enough. He needed Dean to think because the situation had just changed and no one was on the same page anymore. He grabbed Deans arm and pulled him away from the frosted boy, just out of earshot.

"Dean, what the hell?"

"He's killed people Sammy. He has a body count. He needs to go down."

"He didn't mean to, and he sure seems to want to fix the problem. And from the sound of it, he's usually a pretty big force for good too, what with his friends being Santa and the Easter bunny," Sam paused, thinking for a second, "or were you just saying that?"

"No I wasn't just saying that. He told me when I was a kid. But either way he-"

"No, Dean. Lets first just talk to him ok? Maybe we can fix this one without anyone else dying."

They turned back to Jack, who had finally managed to slip his bonds and sat on the back of the chair, balancing it on two legs. Before either could say a thing Jack let it fall, alighting on his feet. He was thin and shorter than both men but still somewhat intimidating with fresh ice racing up his hands and arms, jumping off his skin occasionally to form little swirls of snowflakes.

"If you guys are done, there's something you could do to actually help."

It was a good thing Jack was quick, or Dean's fist would have landed squarely on his nose.

Jack tried again. "I know you still hate me, but something else caused this. Something messed with my magic and I'm worried it's affecting the other Guardians too. They should have come looking for me by now, and the fact that they haven't means something's wrong. We need to find them."

Dean glared at Jack for a second, then turned around and stormed out of the warehouse without saying a word. Sam glanced after his brother, then faced Jack. "We'll think about it," he concluded before following.


	7. Intermission (am i allowed to do that?)

Hey all you gorgeous mother fuckers that read this thing which i am apparently writing now (?) i just wanted to say thanks because you rock and i love you.

Sorry for the brief pause in the story (i hesitate to call it a hiatus). School's just been a big horseshit mess and i've been trying to get caught up.

Anyway i'm going to be bringing in the other Guardians next chapter and possibly Cas so stay tuned. Chapter 7 will be up by monday at the latest and if you send lots of love and reviews and tummy rubs you might get chapter 8 as well.

and hey if you have some crazy good idea that you want me to write into the story just send me a message or something and we'll see if we can get that shit to COMMENCE.


	8. Chapter 7

Bunny ran. He ran faster than he could ever remember running before. Clods of dirt spewed from behind him paws at every step, racing through his tunnels and across plains and desert and tundra. He raced across continents with a single-minded motivation.

_Get away._

He had to get away, not only from the vicious array of life that sprung up at his heel, but from humanity. The vines had choked a family to death in their sleep in rural Greece when he realized he couldn't hold it in any longer. His ability to create and encourage growth, new life, had turned on him with savage ferocity. Huge ropes of poison ivy and rose thorns grabbed at his feet and tried to drag him back, so he ran.

A rabbit is nervous. A rabbit will always run because if you dig deep enough, a rabbit is always afraid.

Fear burned him from the inside like acid. A coughing fit struck him, plowing into his chest causing only the briefest loss of balance, but it was enough. He lost his footing a keeled forward. The vines raced forward and coiled around him, knotting themselves around his neck. Bunny's pupils were blown wide in terror and he gasped and tried to scream, only to feel the vines tighten and surge upward.

A black tree stood in a green hollow in Australia and from it hung a bloodied rabbit by a noose made from vines.

###

Meanwhile, at the North poles, an elderly Russian man took a last shuttering breath as he lay in his office where he'd collapsed minutes earlier. His ancient heart twitched against his rib cage, the last remnants of a heart attack. A stranger might recognize the similarities to a drug overdose, a junkie who got so high from wonder they never came down.

One of his workers will find him thirty-seven minutes later and rush to send word for help. Lights light multicolored curtains of silk will bloom across the sky around the world, sending scientists rushing to their instruments and labs, and a pair of brothers to their father's notebook, only to watch the lights engulfed in darkness moments later, strangled by something much darker.

###

In a glittering suspended palace that hung above a rainforest, a feathered woman caught glimpses of the colorful lights racing across the sky between the memories that flashed before her eyes.

Images from the minds of millions of the world's children flickered like strobe lights in her head. Her breathing came faster and faster until it fluttered like one of her humming birds. She clutched her head and the babytooths gathered around her, beyond being able to help, only provide some semblance of comfort. The headache felt like her skull at resonance frequency, vibrating until it fractured, too full.

The frantic beating of her heart suddenly ceased, and she try to breathe a sigh of relief, but it rattled out of her chest like a gasp and she slipped into a coma.

###

An angel flinched as he sat and watched bees hover about the tiny flowers of the ivy that grew on the trees of this heaven. Something was wrong. Somewhere, somehow, a balance had been tipped, and that was very, very bad. Hell had been active lately. Demons spread evil like a sickness, trying to recruit, to gain enough power to stop the Winchesters from closing Hell for good. They had focused especially on children, wheedling into their minds and causing them to do the worst things. They were stamping kids with one-way tickets downstairs.

Cas knew this. Everyone knew it, but usually kids didn't really count in the grand scheme of things. Technically their spirits existed on the far side of a subtle, very abstract boundary. They were protected by different forces, so heaven and hell usually let them alone.

But whatever that boundary was, it just shattered. I could have been fracturing for ages, and he wouldn't have known, but when it fell, something in the deepest parts of Cas shuttered. Whatever had been holding the pure, honest good of childhood away from the worst of the world was no longer there and the dark end of the scale slammed down with the suddenly gained weight.

He vanished with a whoosh.


	9. Chapter 8

Dean slumped at the small desk in the motel room. Sam had run out to fetch food or something. He felt like shit. He knew he should help Jack. What had happened wasn't his fault after all, but dredging up childhood memories rarely went well for Dean.

He leaned back in the chair and stared at the stained ceiling.

"Damn it." he muttered.

"You're going to have to be more specific," a gruff voice said behind him.

Deal wheeled around and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden present of his angel.

"Don't do that Cas! Scared the shit out of me!"

"Hello Dean. It seems we have a problem," Cas couldn't waste time with pleasantries right now.

"Which one are you referring to?" Dean retorted, his tone suddenly caustic, "The fact that Sam has too much on his plate again? Or maybe the one having to do with you blowing us off? Where the hell have you been, man?"

"Please Dean. I'll explain all that, but right now-"

"No. We are dealing with this _now._"

Cas sighed and sat (plopped would probably be more accurate) down on the side of one of the beds. He looked up at Dean, who slowly sat down across from him with an expectant look on his face.

"I've been stuck. In heaven. Technically I can still come and go as I please, but they've had such a sharp eye on me, they'd call me back as soon as I left to go check on something else," he explained without looking directly at Dean. Dean could see the shadows behind his eyes, shadows of combined exhaustion and boredom. Dean knew the look too well from looking in a mirror.

"So how are you out now?" he asked.

"They're distracted at the moment. That's what I came here to talk to you about. Something is happening to children. We normally try to not get involved with kids because they aren't really our division so to speak."

Dean shook his head slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Their souls don't really go to heaven or hell, so we let them alone. They're protected by other beings. Things that they create for themselves in a way, and give power to by believing in them. These beings, they call themselves the Guardians, and we try very hard to interact as little as possible."

"What so you exist in different dimensions or something?"

"Not really, but if it helps, sure. Anyway, that barrier which separated us has broken."

"Which is bad," Dean guessed.

"Profoundly. I can't help but suspect demons, Dean. What with your new quest to close the Gates for good, I worry they are trying to recruit, to build their armies before they're cut off from their usual access to souls."

The door swung open, making them both jump. Sam was backing into the room with his arms full of what would no doubt be organic groceries.

"Hey, Dean," he said, still oblivious to the third party in the room, "I stopped at that little bakery on my way home and picked you up some pie, cause you seemed to be a little-"

He stopped short and practically threw the bags down on the desk, only managing to gawk at the until-recently missing angel.

"Cas!"

"Hello, Sam." Cas answered, "your brother and I were discussing a problem that has just arisen. It has to do with a group called the Guardians, with whom you probably aren't familiar but-"

"Like Jack?" Sam cut in, glancing at Dean.

Cas looked taken aback by Sam's knowledge.

"Jack Frost," Cas nodded, "yes he is the most recent addition to the group, but how do you know him? You shouldn't even be able to see him."

A sudden drop in temperature startled the trio, who, suspecting a draft as the culprit, looked over at the still open door.

"You know it's rude to talk about someone behind their back." A white haired figure grinned back at them before casually stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His smile didn't reach his eyes though. In fact, it barely masked his distress.

"Uh," Dean managed to say eloquently, "um. Jack, this is Castiel, we were-"

"I know," Jack interrupted, his thin attempt at a cheerful facade suddenly and completely nonexistent," something is wrong with the kids, which means there's something wrong with us."

Jack had been extremely careful to avoid any physical contact since he entered the increasingly crowded motel room, still nervous of his unpredictable powers, and the adverse effects they'd had on those that did touch him.

But he hadn't noticed Cas subtly moving around behind him until he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He flinched and turned to see ice race up a surprised Cas' arm, flashing across his coat. It erupted off his back on either side of his spine and curled like feathers in midair, forming a pair of massive structures that nearly filled the room. Wings.


	10. Chapter 9

Wings. Massive, crystalline, black wings sprouted from Cas' back, between his shoulder blades. Each feather was coated with Jack's intricate designs.

Both non-humans looked surprised by the outcome of their contact. Sam and Dean were still struggling to pick their jaws up off the floor.

"Uh," Jack stammered, "s-sorry. I mean, should have seen it coming. What with the boundary broken and all, contact would probably edit you appearance to fit what children believe it to be. Guess that means wings."

"I've always had wings, they're just invisible and intangible in this vessel," Cas explained.

###

After some careful folding and jostling, the four had managed to orient themselves around Sam's laptop and some papers.

After Jack gave Sam and Dean some initial background information ("Santa _is_ real! HA, I told you, Dean!), they began choosing a plan of action.

"Ok. North, Bunny and Tooth are the one's I'm most worried about right now," Jack explained and pointed to the locations of their bases on a world map. "They have the most believers, so they have the closest ties to the kids. I think the first thing we should do is check on them, make sure they're ok. Sandy's the oldest and more deeply seated in their subconscious, so he should be fine for now. I'm not sure what would happen to him if he lost all his believers, probably just sink back into some kind of abstract realm of the subconscious or-"

"Jack, focus."

"Sorry."

"So let's split up," Cas suggested, "see if they're ok and if they know anything about what's going on. Sam and I can visit the fairy and you and Dean check Father Christmas."

"Maybe I should go with Jack..." Sam said carefully.

"Probably best," agreed Jack, and sent a tentative glance at Dean, who still seemed pretty uncomfortable with the spirit.

"Fine. And we'll meet at the Rabbit's pad?" Dean couldn't really get over the fact that they were talking about Santa and the Easter Bunny. The others nodded.

About 30 minutes later, after what was without a doubt the most frightening experience of Sam's life (which was saying just a bit of something) Sam and Jack touched down at the North Pole.

"Never," gasped Sam, "Never again. Never do that to me. Ever, ever again."

Jack laughed, "It was only a little flight. I didn't even go that fast. You've got ice in you hair by the way."

"NO SHIT."

Sam had expected some sort of teleportation when Jack had held out his recently recovered staff and told him to, "hold on tight!"

He had not expected to be lifted off the ground by the wind and hurtled northwards, a couple miles above the ground with zero control over where he was going.

They stared up at the massive workshop. Almost every window was dark, all but a few on the lower level. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Jack pull something out of his sweatshirt pocket. He stuck an end in his mouth and lit the other with a familiar looking lighter.

"You smoke?" Sam asked, more than a little surprised. The tip glowed in the dark, snowy landscape and was a strange contrast to Jack's icy, pale features.

"Used to. A long time ago. Only started up again recently. Keeps the freezing people thing in check. Actually keeps the freezing, wind, chaotic goddamn blizzard thing in check as a whole. Stole one of your lighters by the way. There was a bunch in your car with the salt and gasoline so I took one. Oh, and please never shoot me with that combination again, or I will fly you to the south pole and back in 5 minutes and see how you feel then." Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and strode towards the ominously quiet workshop.

Sam followed. He hadn't failed to notice that Jack seemed to have given up on his lighthearted facade. For a kid, the Guardian of fun no doubt, he sure seemed tired.

###

Dean and Cas craned their necks to stare at the palace that hung from the massive overhanging rock formation that rose out of a seemingly endless jungle. They were somewhere in Asia, Dean guessed. The rock formations looked like the ones on the National Geographic calendar he had as a kid.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so," Dean searched for a word to describe the glittering inverted structure, "pink." They could hear a distant sort of humming sound, like insects. Dean hoped he would have to deal with any bugs. He really hated bugs.

Cas grabbed Dean's shoulder and in an instant they were standing in the bizarre palace on an open structure which wrapped around the interior building. The humming was louder now. Dean made for a door leading inside and was startled by the loud, musical _BONG_ his step made. The humming stopped.

"Shit," he groaned.

Hundreds of hummingbird-like fairies swarmed out of the building. They surrounded Cas and Dean, who covered any bare spot of skin they could. Those beaks looked sharp. The fairies tugged on their clothes generally assaulted the strangers until Cas cried, "Stop! Stop, we're here to help. We're friends of Jack!"

The fairies paused and drew back, their expectant faces inviting Cas to continue.

"I know we shouldn't be here, especially me, but something's very much amiss and we wanted to check on Tooth to make sure she's ok."

At the mention of Tooth's name, the little creatures became silent, their faces solemn.

"Well," Dean said nervously, "that's not a good sign,"

One of them gestured to the door and led them inside. The interior was lined floor to ceiling with thousands upon thousands of tiny, golden vaults, each with a face painted on the front, but what caught Dean's eye was a raised platform on the far side of the room. A figure was laid on the bed, covered in layers of silks. Cas walked over to the feathered woman and placed a hand on her forehead.

"She's ok," he assured, "unconscious, but stable. I imagine there's very little we can do now besides stop the demons."

Dean nodded, "to the Warren then?"

"To the Warren," Cas answered.


	11. Chapter 10

_Hey guys, i figured i should probably write more notes what with more of you reading this. Anyway, thanks for reading and i'm sorry for th mistakes :| i try to edit them out but they sometimes manage to squeeze through._

_Anyway, i wasn't going to post this until monday, but my SAT test got cancled due to snow so here it is, even if i don't like it much. You lucky dogs. Thanks again, and reviews encourage faster writing and make me slightly less lonely so feel free to say hi. Enjoy :o)_

The moment Jack stepped through the door, a yeti nearly knocked him over as it ran past. It stopped dead in its tracks, turned and pointed at Jack and a very nervous looking Sam.

"Phil, this is Sam. He's helping me. Yeah he knows about everything. Sam, Phil," as Jack made the quick introduction several more yetis rushed towards him, "now what the hell is going on?"

The yetis gestured upstairs, in the direction of North's workshop. The doors were uncharacteristically shut.

"Shit."

"What?" asked Sam.

"Those should be open."

They sprinted after the yetis towards the room. Jack flung the door open to find the man who had taken him in eight years ago laying in what looking frighteningly like a deathbed. He silently padded to North's side and rested his hand on the man's face. Meanwhile the yetis persisted in trying to speak to Sam in their garbled language despite Sam's protests that no, he was not a mostly bald yeti. He was a human dammit.

Jack straightened and shook his head at Sam, effectively silencing the crowd. A few elves had gathered at the foot of the bed. The room had been rearranged into what looked like a semi permanent bedroom. Whatever had happened, it happened a while ago, a couple weeks at least.

"Is he-" Sam whispered.

"I don't think so. It's hard to understand. He's dead right now I think, but not permanently. His magic is still there; it's just separated from him, but not gone. I don't know. I think maybe if we fix the kids he might be ok." Jack felt the still lit cigarette freeze between his fingers, which hung at his side. "I really hope he'll be ok. We need to meet your brother and Cas at the Warren."

###

Dean and Cas waited near the entrance of the Warren for the rest of the team.

Dean sat on a boulder and was officially freaked out by the little egg things. They kept popping up out of nowhere, and wobbled around on their tiny legs for a few minutes before shattering again. Their creepy little shell carcasses were everywhere.

Sam's shriek startled him and he turned to watch his brother cling to Jack's staff for dear life as the pair landed.

Jack didn't waste a second.

"How's Tooth?" he asked, while Sam regained his composure.

"Comatose but alive and stable." Cas answered in a military tone.

Dean gave his brother a bemused look, to which Sam responded with a threatening glare.

Jack nodded and tossed his crook back and forth absent mindedly. "North's possibly dead," he explained, "but I'm not really sure. Don't ask. I don't know how it works exactly." He eyed Dean who had just opened his mouth to asked what the hell that meant.

"Either way," he continued, "there's nothing we can do now. We need to find Bunny, but he's probably the same as the others. I've tried to contact Sandy but he's not answering. I think we need to just deal with the root of this and hope they wake up."

"I think you are correct. We should check the rabbit, then focus directly on whatever is causing the problem," Cas agreed.

Jack led them into the entrance tunnel. It was darker than normal, as it was usually lit by Bunny's ambient magic. The brothers pulled out flashlights and they continued at a quickened pace. They were nearly sprinting when the tunnel opened up to reveal the heart of the Warren.

Jack stood stock still, eyes wide at the sight that greeted him. A tree grew along what was now a dry streambed. From one of its sick-looking black branches hung Bunny, but Jack's stare was directed at something else.

A man in a neat black suit gazed up at the pooka with his back to the four visitors. His head was cocked to the side, like a dog that was very interested in a possible treat.

"Well don't just stand there," he called cheerfully. His accent was distinctly British. "Come in and chat."

He turned and faced the party. Jack saw Sam and Dean lunge forward out of the corner of his eye and instinctually threw his arms out to block them. The brothers stopped, but glared at the man all the same, hatred clear in their expressions.

"My goodness," he addressed Jack directly, "looks like you have them well trained. Kudos. No one else has managed that to my knowledge."

This man was wrong, and Jack could feel it in his bones. Whatever he was, evil and hate and pain clung to him like dirt, rolling off in little toxic wisps.

Jack whipped his staff out from behind him, sending a bolt of ice and energy at the man, who sidestepped the attack easily. The blow smashed into the tree and covered it in ice. It shuddered, but didn't fall, and sent Bunny swinging slightly at the disturbance. It was incredibly unnerving, Jack thought.

"Ah, you must be the one who got away." the man grinned. "Well, we couldn't get the little golden one either but we can't find him so I'll assume he's no threat."

He stepped forward and held out his hand as if to shake Jack's. Dean pulled a wicked looking knife and a nalgene bottle full of what looked like water out of a bag he had slug across his shoulders. Sam did the same, but neither advanced farther. They watched Jack for his reaction.

"Lovely to meet you, Jack Frost. My name's Crowley. I'm the King of Hell."


	12. Chapter 11

Dear gods i am so sorry it's been so long since an update. I literally have no excuse whatsoever. I owe you guys some fluff or something to make up for it. sorry. ok.

* * *

After Crowley's little stunt introduction, Cas had decided he was very much tired of this utter bullshit and that they needed to regroup. In a blink he whooshed to bunny's tree, grabbed him down, whooshed back over to the boys and told them to hang on tight.

Upon arriving back at the motel he realized the room was now occupied by one human, one Winter spirit, one angel and his absurd wings, one six-foot-two rabbit thing, and one moose.

It was a touch crowded, but what really worried him was the look on Jack's face.

"Jack?" he asked carefully. The others watched the tense interaction like hawks.

Jack spoke slowly with flat, cold precision, annunciating every syllable, "I need to step outside for a moment," and he did without another word. The blizzard that ensued would have appeared to most as a massive freak of the atmosphere. The current residents of room 21 at the Lodge Motel knew better.

When Jack came back inside he looked less wound tight and closer to exhausted, so much so, in fact, that he didn't notice the conscious pooka which sat on one of the beds.

"Having a temper tantrum there frostbite?" The Australian accent caused Jack's gaze to shoot up.

"Bunny!" he cried and pulled the rabbit into a hug, "you're ok! Wait. How are you ok?"

Sam couldn't help but grin at Jack's response to his friend. "Cas helped him," he explained, "He's still weak, but it looks like whatever Cas did, it muted the poisoned magic enough for Bunny to wake up."

"I can't believe Crowley's involved," Dean growled. "Actually, yes. Yes I can. Of course that son of a bitch is part of this. I'm so tired of his fugly little face."

"So you've dealt with this wanker before then?" Bunny asked.

"Yeah." chorused Sam, Dean and Cas at once.

"He manages to be involved with anything and everything nasty as long as it improves his chance of survival," huffed Sam.

"But at least he's predictable, which is good." Cas added.

"Wait what do you mean?" Jack asked. He'd blown off enough steam to be functional but he still wanted to give this bastard some hardcore lose-you-fingers-and-ears sort of frostbite for messing with the family and the kids.

"Well," Sam chimed in again (he certainly seemed to be the voice of reason in the little triad of freedom fighters), "he likes to get things done by sticking his neck out as little as possible. Whatever he's using to mess with kids, he's probably using something which already exists and is just altering it, trying to keep his own head as safe as possible."

Bunny and Jack gave each other a knowing look. They both remembered another asshole who'd done the same thing. Jack wondered to what degree that was the case.

"Bunny and me and the other Guardians took on a guy called Pitch a while back. He did something like what you're saying. He took Sandy's dream sand and used it to create nightmares. Fear. His thing was fear. He used it to make kids stop believing in us."

"You think there's a chance Crowely's doing the same thing?" Sam asked.

"Not exactly," Jack replied, "but he might be doing something similar. So they don't stop believing, but they get sick in a way. Emotionally or something. So our magic gets sick. What would do that?" He asked Bunny, hoping the more senior Guardian might know more.

"Hell if I know, mate."

With the new hypothesis, the research began. Sam had his laptop and Dean was skimming through news channels on the tv for any general fishiness. The brothers didn't really want to know where Jack had acquired an ipad but the spirit was struggling to use the thing, which refused to acknowledge his cold digits as fingers. Sam switched with him after a while out of sympathy, but they had to let the tablet thaw out a bit first. Cas was who-knows-where doing angel stuff and Bunny was snoring softly in the bathtub, which he'd lined with towels. He still seemed pretty exhausted and weak, but he was ok for the time being, which was what Jack cared about at the moment.

Jack kept glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye. He still felt guilty for... whatever it was that had happened. The separation he guessed.

He sighed and thumped his head down on the table.

Sam looked up at the sound. "Jack," he said, "if you need to go outside for a while that's fine. We know you're not really meant to be kept inside like this."

"Nah, I'm fine. I just feel stupid."

Dean muted the tv, deciding this conversation sounded more interesting than the one about Michigan's growing raccoon population.

Jack spun in his chair, his eyes glued to the faded pattern on the carpet. "I just feel guilty for not finding you guys when you left. Dean, you were one of the only kids that could ever see me. When you took off, well, I guess I thought I had just dreamed the whole thing up."

Dean gave him a confused look and replied, "Jack that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Jack groaned and flopped his head back onto the desk. "Murmf jrrsdtrd ersrrtrsd srmdrms"

"What?"

"It's just that I see things sometimes. Make up people to talk to. I dunno. I was totally alone for 300 years. I got lonely so I made shit up. Got hard to tell what was real and what wasn't sometimes. I figured you were just another imaginary friend. I was stupid. Sorry."

Dean chuckled quietly, "Well I guess that's not so bad. I've seen worse, crazier."

The corners of Sam's mouth twitched into a tiny smirk. "Yeah," he added, "at least your imaginary friend wasn't Lucifer."

"What, like Satan?"

"Yep." Sam nodded. Dean watched his brother with interest. It was the first time he had told anyone else about his days as a head case. Sam continued, "I spent a few months as a raging schizophrenic. Saw the devil and hell all over the place. Gotta love that PTSD."

"PTSD? Like you actually spent time in Hell or something?"

"I was, well my soul was. For like a year and a half."

Jack just looked back and forth between the brothers for a moment, his eyebrows so far up his forehead they got lost in his hair. "Well, shit. Now I feel like a total wuss."

They fell back into silence again after a few swapped tidbits of information. A few kids gone missing, some tots trying to strangle their pets and such, but they were so spread out, they weren't really leads.

Jack liked these guys. They didn't try to make him talk, and seemed pretty cool with anything that got thrown at them. He loved the rest of the Guardians of course, but they were dramatic and probing and a little too _grand_ for Jack's taste sometimes. It was nice to have other friends.


End file.
